


Flint's Respite

by sakurachan811



Series: The Renegade Files [2]
Category: G.I. Joe: Renegades
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Bisexual Male Character, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Requited Unrequited Love, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:00:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25167364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sakurachan811/pseuds/sakurachan811
Summary: They had a history together you see.
Relationships: Conrad "Duke" S. Hauser/Shana "Scarlett" M. O'Hara, Conrad S."Duke" Hauser/Dashiell "Flint" R. Faireborn/ Alison "Lady Jaye" R. Hart-Burnett, Dashiell "Flint" R. Faireborn/Alison "Lady Jaye" R. Hart-Burnett
Series: The Renegade Files [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1815079
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place right before interlude

He was surprised when Duke's kid brother gave him the tip-off. He almost feels bad hauling them in around Christmas time. He has to remind himself it's his job to bring them in. I'm just trying to do my job Burnett, honestly. It's not like I want him to go down in a blaze of gunfire. No matter how often he tries to go out that way. 

But when Duke tells him to promise to look after his family, all their families.Well, Dashiell Fairborne always keeps his promises. Merry Fucking Christmas Conrad, you owe me for this, again.

What did he say back on that train?  
"I'm your friend Duke"  
Are they still?  
Can he even say that anymore?  
He didn't believe him after all, back in Springfield. Threw his greatest shame in his face, even. To remind him that he owes him everything.

When he had them in custody, trying to understand. Duke wouldn't do something like this, but what they were saying was insane!  
"I didn't deserve accolades Flint!"  
I'm just trying to help you, you stubborn asshole!  
Do you have any idea how humiliated I was?  
When you refused that medal, you were just a private then!

After Duke saves him from the collapsing prison train, the one they were blowing up at the time, that one. I told you not to use all the C4 but you never listen to me, so why start now?  
I should have shot you then, you selfish asshole.  
He can't bring himself to shoot him, he just couldn't.  
Duke's good man, better than him.

After the trial he catches Duke in a bar.  
He sees him slumped over at the bar nursing a shot of whisky. He looks different than he remembers, and not because of the new face scar. He already had so many, physical or otherwise.  
No, right now he looks small, that more than anything else that's happened that is what surprises him.

He sits down, Duke doesn’t acknowledge he's there, but then again he doesn't expect him too.  
He wants to ask him If he's allowed by his doctors to drink right now, while he recuperates.  
He also wants to ask what the hell he's doing getting wasted at a bar. He says nothing, unsure if he has the right to ask anything of him anymore.  
"I love her, y'know?"  
He hears him say so quietly into his drink that he's sure he wasn't supposed to hear it at all.  
He opens his mouth anyway, goes for the safer of the two possibilities.  
"Who? Lady Jaye?" He says with mock suprise, teasingly, like it doesn't hurt him.  
He tries not to imagine their bodies tangled together, fails miserably. Wonders if that back scar of his is any sensitive, Wonders how it would feel under his lips and tounge. What kinds of sounds he could coax out of him, her, both? He wants to watch them together, see him lose his cool. He Imagines the sight of her pert breasts heaving, her dark skin and dusky nipples, head thrown back, full mouth slack from pleasure. Tries not to think about being sandwiched between the two of them.  
Of Fucking Burnett while Conrad fucks him.

He remembers his father saying that Faireborn men don't look at other men that way Dashiell, you know better. What the hell did that old drunk know anyway?  
Another thought comes unbidden. Does Conrad even like men?  
But then Duke snorts, finishes his drink in one large swallow, stares at the ice like it'll give him answers. Looks over at him scrubs his face hard. Says "No Dash, but that would be easier wouldn't it?"  
Dash? Duke hasn't called him that since the failed M.A.R.S wepons mission in Central America.  
Just how many drinks in is he?  
He takes careful stock of him: His hair was a mess, looked like he ran his hands through the pale locks a few times too many.  
Too pale, but to be expected. They had grilled him intensively, pressed and for days on end.The news channels practically did a smear campaign on him.  
His posture was stooped with exhaustion, again no surprise there. Its been a hell of a few weeks.  
But it's his sad artic blue eyes that convince him he's completely sober.  
What he says next makes him wish he wasn't.

"She doesn't" was all that he said, in a soft voice that spoke of grief and a wintry bitterness that sounded wrong in one so young.

I don't think I'd deserve her was left unsaid

(Twenty-two is so young.)

A month after the trial to end all trials he's working at his desk, dealing with the mountains of paperwork this mess had caused him.  
So when Shauna O'Hara walks in, he can hardly hide his distain.  
"Lieutenant Faireborn" she says, the words like he's something she found on the bottom of her shoe. Now there's an idea. No, he has to focus. She's here for a reason, after all she hates him.  
"Leutenent O'Hara" he says "what can I help you with?" something Cobra related, if he'd hazzard to guess. She means business though, she plows ahead like he never spoke.  
"I need you to tell me what Conrad was like before the Springfield incident".  
"What?" he says stupidly and then, as if thinking better of it. "Why don't you just ask him yourself?"  
He knows that's a sore spot for her still.  
He sits back in his chair, waits for her response.  
"Duke needs medical help" she says like it's the most obvious thing in the world.  
No shit, he thinks. Duke came out of the other side of this practically in peices.  
Unless, that doesn't seem to be what she means.  
Her eyes are very green, he notices suddenly that she's pretty. Pale skin, nice legs, decent rack, tougher than nails, she's brilliant, with an acid tounge. Or that might just be the stress migrane he feels coming on. You really know how to pick'em don't you Duke?  
He closes his eyes, mutters a choice curse. He really can't still believe this is his life now.  
"What do you need to know exactly?"

She smiles at him gratefully then, he's not expecting her to, it's different than the cold sneers and smirks he's used to seeing on her face and it, well, he has to move his files on his desk to avoid looking at her. Her green eyes glittering happily in her face. He understands why Duke would and has followed her to the ends of the Earth.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was mine first

He was angry when he first really meets Conrad, remembers acting tough. Trying to hide his guilt when he sees him working a shitty burger job in January after the championships.  
He'd helped him enlist by June, after he's graduated and back on his feet, literally. There's a sour curl of guilt when he had realized just how much he cost him. 

He knows Duke's family was, and still is poor. That area of St. Louis never recovered when all those plants shut down. So, football, then Army, then West Point. There aren't alot of chances to succeed like those in Missouri or with his family back in Kansas.

The Army is the only thing Duke seems to really live for anymore. Come to think of it, He’d always acted like there's no other way for him. Even back in basic, he'd started to shed bits and pieces of himself, that wasn't surprising he didn't really know pre-Army Conrad.  
He only him as knew Duke,  
He had thought that Duke wanted throw off the reputation of being from the poorer part of St.Louis,

It's not bravery, it never was. Not if he was actively trying to get himself killed.

Even when he's limping and flinching in pain but makes no attempt to stop.  
He never stops.


	3. Chapter 3

he shoved the memory away.

Now was not the time to be dwelling on past experimentation with one's best friend.

Back when he had had license to apply his teeth to the tan expanse of his neck But that had been a very long time ago. He had been a very different person then—

Unbidden, the bitter thought came: I loved him first. He was mine first, and I want him back.  
Instead he took one deep breath, let it out slow through his nose. Dashiell Fairborne ached inside 

God, this was the weirdest fucking thing.

But what else was there for him to do?

So he kissed him hard-fast and desperate, an open-mouthed bite.   
It wasn't enough. It wasn't ever going to be enough, This was so fucked up. There was bile at the back of his throat, and all he could think was you say you know him, but you don't know him like I do.

He was glassy-eyed gorgeous and wrecked. It was the prettiest thing he'd ever seen, he burns it into his mind to keep forever.

His eyes were pits of dull blue fire set in circles of deep dark-purple that might have been bruises.  
His shoulder moved, the muscles bunching slow and languid beneath his skin.

The shadows under his eyes grew ever more pronounced in the light of his room somehow.


End file.
